


The Perfect Lure

by dezolis



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Dorks in Love, Fishing, Fluff and Humor, Hand Jobs, M/M, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 17:25:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17832917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dezolis/pseuds/dezolis
Summary: Noctis loves Prompto.  Prompto loves Noctis.  Noctis loves fishing.  Prompto friggin’ hates fishing.  But ah, the things he’ll do for love.  And to alleviate boredom.





	The Perfect Lure

Fun Fact #1: There are only twelve fishing spots in the entirety of Insomnia’s vast coastline that are rated at five stars/excellent according to the editors of Angler Enthusiast, the best selling magazine for fishermen.

Fun Fact #2: After Angler Enthusiast, Fish Fanatics Monthly and Rod & Reel are the second and third highest selling magazine for fishermen.

Fun Fact #3: Despite the age for the demographic targeted by these magazines falling into the ‘old as balls’ category, Noctis Lucis Caelum has a subscription to all three.

Fun Fact #4: The Rod & Reel subscription was a gift from Prompto, on the basis of A) he wanted to give his boyfriend a meaningful birthday present, B) his budget consisted of the spare change he could scrounge up from his foster parents couch, and C) he would never have to read a single page of the stupid thing.

Fun Fact #5: None of these facts are actually fun, but they suck way less hard than fishing itself.

 

There’s a part of Prompto, specifically his brain and also his heart and his nerves and, okay, his whole damn body, that still can’t believe that Noct is his boyfriend. A formally chubby, awkward nerd and now a kinda scrawny, awkward nerd has somehow landed Insomnia’s most eligible bachelor: the crown prince himself. Not that Noct would greet such a pronouncement with anything more than a dismissive snort. He thinks Prompto is the prize. For real. He likes that they can just hang together - no fancy titles or duties giving anybody obligations. As close as Noct is to Gladio and Ignis, there’s still the lingering air of formality in their relationships. Gladio is his Shield with a capital ‘S’, and Iggy his Advisor wtih a Capital ‘A’. Prompto thinks there’s also a Royal with a capital ‘R’ that goes in front of both. He knows there’s nagging about keeping up with training, keeping up with his studies, eating his bloody veggies, blah, blah, blah, that comes with the titles. 

Prompto has always been a friend, then a boyfriend. No capital letters necessary. No nagging at all. Maaaybe a touch of whining when Noct suggests they spend their evening fishing.

“What about a movie?” Prompto suggests. He can’t think of one he wants to see. It’s the late year award bait season for movies, which means anything good is old and already seen and everything coming out is Important and full of Quality Acting and therefore, boring as hell. But still not as boring as fishing.

“Nah, I heard fishing’s been real good lately at this place near the Tonitrus Bridge. Wanna get there before it’s all fished out.” 

How can Prompto deny such logic? Especially when Noct is being all eager and adorable and actually smiling as he sorts through his box of fishing ~~crap~~ gear.

Prompto can’t say no, not to Noct. The word just won’t form even to spare him hours of standing around waiting for a glorified stick to move ever so slightly. The most resistance he can muster is to try to put it off. “We get dinner first?”

“Got to be there at dusk. Only time you can catch this one kind of carp. And we want to get a good spot.”

Oh, yeah. Some fish have, like _business hours_ or something. Yet another thing Prompto does not get about fishing. In truth, the only thing he does get about it is how much Noct loves it, which means putting up with it if he wants to spend time with Noct. There’s the option of telling Noct that fishing isn’t his thing, acknowledging that they don’t have to spend all their free time together and then doing something on his own, but he is so not ready for that kind of drastic measure.

So they’re off to the Tonitrus Bridge. It’s a decent hike from Noct’s apartment and Prompto gazes longingly at the restaurants they won’t be eating at and the arcade they won’t be playing any games in as they pass by. Noct is babbling about getting a new lure. The fish that has become the new hotness for the anglers of Insomnia is apparently super picky about which piece of plastic it will chomp down on. All fish seem to like the lures in cute daemon shapes, which either says something about how weird fish are or how weird the fishermen are. Both, probably.

When they arrive, Prompto figures he could add his and Noct’s ages together and they’d still be youngest people here. He can’t crack too many old people jokes because everybody is super friendly. Noct gets some pointers and trades a couple of lures. Prompto zones out and starts thinking about the math test he’s got coming up. Actual equations done in his head voluntarily. They’ve barely begun and he’s already desperate.

After a forever, Noct leads him down to a spot next to bridge pylon. At least there will be something to lean against when Prompto begins to fall asleep on his feet. Falling over is bad because it startles the fish. Prompto learned that valuable lesson the first time they went fishing.

“Don’t suppose you got a TV in there?” Prompto asks when Noct pulls his rod and tackle box out of his armiger.

He actually does have a small, portable one stuffed in there from long ago as a joke, but it’s a no-go because, again, fish and startling. _Maybe they should make lures out of xanax._

Noct takes a survey of the water then sends the line out with a flick of his wrist. “Nice cast,” Prompto says though he has no idea if it was or not. Noct didn’t make that cute grumbly noise he usually makes when something’s not bobbing or sinking or whatevering right so Prompto took a guess.

“Yep.” And that’s all Noct says for the next ten minutes.

As the saying goes, when life gives you boring lemons, you do shit with your phone. Prompto subtly slides his phone out of his pocket, though really, he can do jumping jacks and wave the phone around and Noct won’t notice. His gaze is for the water and the creatures therein. Whatever. As long as his phone has coverage out here, it’s cool.

+LOW BATTERY WARNING+  
+SWITCHING TO LOW POWER MODE+

Noooooooooooo. Prompto forgot to plug in the charger when he got home. He spent the time between then and meeting Noct playing games. He looks at the 1% in the corner, taunting him, denying him the sweet succor of streaming and gaming. He doesn’t have a back up battery either. He’s adrift. He’ll have to, like, appreciate nature? 

He looks up from his phone. It is a nice scene. The noise of Insomnia has settled into a gentle buzz this far away. The sun’s fading over the high rises of the city’s skyline and casting long shadows onto the water alongside the reflections of the purples and pinks of the darkening sky. Kinda romantic if you didn’t think about the end goal of tricking a stinky fish into getting stuck on the lure, jerking the thing all around the water as it struggles for its life and then watching it flop to death after man proves superior in strength to the life form approximately one tenth of his size. 

It all really puts Prompto into the mood. Of course, he’s pretty much been in a constant mood since puberty and the hormones kicked in so it’s more like it fails to take him out of the mood. He thinks he’d need an ice pick to the head for that to happen.

Alas, after forty minutes, zero fish, five more words from Noct, a zillion yawns from Prompto, he starts to believe an ice pick to the head wouldn’t be that bad. It would be a thing that’s happening unlike the vast nothing that’s going on now. There’s a bit of action as the rod dips almost imperceptibly and Noct lets out an excited gasp but it’s over in seconds when the fish nopes out on the lure.

“Think I need to change things up,” Noct concludes. The lure he’s using looks like a malboro so Prompto’s kind of with the fish on that one. A deep dive into the tackle box brings out a beat up moogle. “This one’s lucky.”

Prompto can only pray. It comes out as yawn number zillion and one.

“You tired?” Noct asks.

‘I’m bored out my friggin’ mind’ doesn’t sound like the best way to answer Noct being concerned. Sure it would be honest and logically, Noct would totally understand, but Prompto’s insecurities about his place at Noct’s side don’t run on logic. Pure blind panic is more their speed. 

“Stayed up late studying last night,” he answers. Total blatant lie but Noct doesn’t call him on it. He’s sweet like that.

The moogle’s secured to the line and sent arcing into the water on its quest to lead a hapless fish to its doom. It must need some warm up time to get the luck mojo working. More than fifteen minutes, which is the point where Prompto’s boredom wrestles his insecurities to the metaphorical mat and tells him to do something, anything, you stupid wuss.

It’s getting properly dark. Away from the lights of the city, Prompto can actually see the stars for a change. That’s an even more romantic setting than the whole dusk thing.

“Yeah, it is nice,” Noct says.

_Shit, I said that out loud?_ The boredom’s really getting to him, enough that he’s ready to do something about it. Obviously not tell the truth because while his anxiety may recede, it’s always there lurking, waiting, ready to strike, prepared to -

_If you listen to me_ , his boredom interrupts, _you might get laid_. It’s a bit worrisome that he’s personifying his emotions like this, but if boredom’s going to be his wingman, it’s time to fly.

He saunters over to Noct. He thinks it’s a saunter. There was hip movement. “Not getting any bites?” he asks in a purr. He thinks it’s a purr. His voice was deeper anyway.

“Not a thing.”

“That’s too bad. Maybe I can do something about that.” 

Noctis, Prompto has discovered, has a serious thing about being kissed and nipped along his neck. Had a torrid affair with a vampire in a previous life, kind of thing. Prompto stands behind his man and brushes a lock of hair away before planting his lips on a spot he knows is particularly sensitive. He’s gentle, giving a few long kisses, then a lick. Noct hums in contentment. That’s a go sign and the teeth come out. Still gentle, just a skim along the skin and not enough to leave a mark, but those will be coming. Noct hasn’t been wearing a lot of turtlenecks lately because of the cooler weather.

“Um, Prom, the fish…”

“Not really my kink. This is.” He makes the first bite of the evening. It’s technically Noct’s kink but Prompto has been enlightened to its merits. He wants to go all in and rack up bites two and three but he is in art of seduction mode and goes back to kissing, albeit with a smidge of sucking that grows in ardor until it threatens to leave a different sort of mark.

A hum becomes a growl and Noct presses himself back against Prompto. _Suck it, fishies,_ Prompto thinks. _Wait, shouldn’t they like me and be happy ‘cause I’m saving them by distracting Noct? It’s not really their fault he wants to catch them anyway._

Ugh, why is he thinking about the fish? He just said it isn’t his kink.

His stupid stray thoughts are enough to shake Noct from the distraction. He pulls away slightly. “Can we put this on hold a bit?” Noct asks. “There’s only an hour or so left when I can catch the carp.”

_Got to recover_. Prompto goes for the purr again. “I don’t think the fish want your rod, Noct. But I know someone who does.”

It’s a pun so cheesy and lazy that miles away in his apartment, Ignis suddenly sits up and is irritated without understanding why.

It works on Noct though. Might be because Prompto has slipped one hand underneath his shirt and the other has a firm hold on the buckle of his belt, ready to work it open. “Maybe I could take a break,” Noct concedes. “I mean I have a whole hour.”

Being males in their late teens, they can get through what Prompto wants to do, go get a burger, come back, do it again and have, like, a half hour to spare. Prompto’s a romantic though. He’ll take it slow. Cut that bonus time down to twenty-five minutes.

He undoes the buckle and goes for one smooth, dramatic move that’ll pull the belt the off. It would’ve been hella impressive if it worked, but the belt gets stuck on a loop and Noct gets yoinked sideways. “Not what I was going for,” Prompto apologizes.

“Yeah, I figured.”

He says it with a laugh which is good enough for Prompto to keep going. He doesn’t need the belt off, just loose, so he can get access. Prompto goes slow undoing the button of Noct’s pants and even slower in lowering the zipper. Part of it is working that ol’ sexy magic and the other is the awareness that a snag in that area would be a mood killer of epic proportions. 

The stage is set, or the curtain open, or whatever theatre metaphor that means that Prompto is free to slide his hand into Noct’s underwear to start touching his junk. He’s barely made contact when Noct coughs.

“Um, Prom? Maybe we should take this somewhere a little more private?”

“But it’s dark and we’re behind a pylon.”

“Too far behind it. I can see that guy that gave me the bomb lure out in shallows. If I can see him…”

“Okay so let’s get closer to the pylon then.”

It’s a good idea but neither of them move to follow it. Prompto’s back to nipping Noct’s neck while letting his fingers do the walking along his dick, which, like that thing you do when you pat your head and rub your stomach at the same time, needs a decent amount of coordination and practice to get right. But again, teenage males, so they’ve done a whole bunch of practicing.

Noct has switched to full on moaning between attempts to say Prompto’s name and mentioning the pylon and then a word that comes out as ‘prylon’. Prompto can see the dude in the shallows too but neither of them really wants to stop or disengage in the slightest so they end up crabwalking together towards the pylon, which requires even more coordination. Prompto’s feeling pretty good about his skills.

Noct’s just feeling good period. His back is arched, his breathing is heavy. Prompto makes another attempt on loosening the buckle because things are going to get messy real quick if he doesn’t set Noct free. He wants to ‘woohoo’ at his success this time but Noct chooses that moment to begin grinding his butt against Prompto’s groin and his brain completely forgets how to word. And the fact that ‘word’ is not a verb.

Luckily, his hand’s muscle memory keeps his stroking game strong and soon Noct’s finishes with a long ‘unnnggggg’. His brain’s not so hot on the language stuff at the moment either. He recovers enough to mumble Prompto’s name again and to tell him he’s ‘so good’. The compliment is making Prompto as hard as the grinding was. If he got both at the same time, Prompto thinks his head might explode. Both of them.

Noct pulls away though, but it’s to turn around and give him a kiss. Then another and another and it’s a full blown make out session complete with tongue. _So much for the fish schedule_ , Prompto thinks. He doesn’t chide himself for the fishy thoughts because he needs something to help him slow down if he’s going to last long enough for Noct to reciprocate.

Noct proves one more time why he’s the best boyfriend ever by reading his thoughts. Or maybe by noticing that the front of Prompto’s trousers is tented out like the circus has come to town. “Your turn?” Noct asks with a grin that threatens to dissolve Prompto’s spine.

“Like you really have to ask,” Prompto manages to answer. 

There’s more kissing, more fumbling with zippers and buttons and even more inarticulate groaning. Noct goes a little faster and a little rougher, just how Prompto likes it. Though really, Noct could poke at him while making cow noises and Prompto would still find it hot. Prompto comes to the sound of mooing in his head and Noct’s teeth biting his lower lip. 

They clean themselves up with a box of tissues Noct keeps in his armiger. Prompto thinks they could stand to wash up in the water. That’s when he notices the discarded fishing rod. It probably shouldn’t be inching along the sand by itself the way it is. 

“Uh, Noct, your rod…”

“Again? You’re in a mood tonight.”

“No, your fishing rod.” Prompto jogs over to the rod to pick it up for him, meaning to hand it over, but the line pulls down hard and Noct’s shouting at him to hold on.

“You got a bite!”

Prompto’s not the least bit dismayed that Noct sounds as excited by that as he did the handjob. He’s too alarmed by the onslaught of instructions Noct’s giving to think of anything else. Fishing is way more complex than Prompto thought. Fish do not go gently into that good night. 

“It’s a big one!” Noct shouts. “Ease up on your grip!” There’s a couple other commands that make Prompto realize how many double entendres the sport of fishing contains. He can’t contemplate that now. There’s a freakishly strong fish on the other end of the line and Noct’s counting on him to subdue it. Noct comes over and puts his hands over Prompto’s to help battle Superfish. 

Prompto can hardly believe it. His heart is racing. His focus is razor sharp. He’s cursing the fish and all his fish ancestors. Fishing is actually...pretty cool?

Noct gives him the clear to reel the sucker in. It’s a tense minute of whirling the reel thingy and praying the line doesn’t break and then, with a final tug, the ugliest fucking fish Prompto has ever seen flies from the water and slaps back down upon the beach.

“It’s the carp. You caught the carp.” Noct is breathless, virtually in awe of the fearsome fish killing might of his chosen partner. 

“Holy shit! Fishing doesn’t suck,” Prompto exclaims as he examines the corpse of his foe. It gives one last flop, spooking him, but he’s too high on victory and post orgasm bliss to care.

Noct notices. “Wait, you thought fishing sucked?”

“Uhh…” Prompto stammers through excuses and explanations.

Noct shakes his head. “If you don’t like fishing, just say so. I don’t expect you to do everything I do. It's sweet that you want to be with me but I'm not going to be mad if you don't like one of my hobbies.”

It’s nothing his brain hasn’t already shrieked at him while his anxieties said ‘nah, bro’ but hearing it from Noct is reassuring. When Prompto promises to keep that in mind, he really, really wants to mean it. He’s going to try. He wants this to work. Noct is a bigger, better, more wonderful catch than any carp. Prompto’s going to do all he can to keep him.

“You know,” Noct says, “sometimes when you’re droning on about your photography stuff, it can get kinda boring.”

_Wait, what!?!_


End file.
